


When I hear that whistle blowing

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [34]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Jukebox Prompt, M/M, POV Patrick Brewer, Prompt Fill, Trolling, Very affectionate trolling, trolling as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: "What's..." he trails off as he follows David's gaze to the door of the refrigerator and is greeted by a photo he thought he'd burned all copies of. But no. There it is. Front and centre.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775569
Comments: 22
Kudos: 204





	When I hear that whistle blowing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiffymittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffymittens/gifts).



> I've been in a real writing funk, hating everything I write mood the last few days so I asked a few friends for some ridiculously soft prompts to shake the cobwebs out a bit and boy did they deliver. I mean, "Marcy tells David about how Patrick got arrested one time", come on. That's amazing.
> 
> As always with Jukebox prompts it’s unedited, barely reread, and written on my phone, so apologies for what I’m sure is a multitude of errors.
> 
> Title is from Johnny Cash. (How could I resist?)

"Can I give you a tour, David?"

Patrick gives his fiancé's hand a squeeze before his mom whisks him away. He doesn't need a tour of his childhood home, so he leaves David and his mom to it as he picks up their bags — he'd managed to talk David down to one full-sized suitcase and a duffel for their three-day trip — and deposits them in what he still thinks of as his room even though it's long since been turned into a more generic guest room.

He's just heading back down the stairs when he hears David's voice coming from the kitchen, pitch rising. "What is  _ that?" _

He can't hold back the wince. He knows — and loves — that David has such strong opinions on what is and isn't  _ correct, _ aesthetically. But he also knows that his mom's style is... well, kitschy, and about as far removed from the Approved David Rose Lookbook as possible. David was incredibly nervous about taking this trip, though, and Patrick's surprised he didn't manage to keep his disapproval of whatever decorative choice has offended him quiet. He hurries down the rest of the stairs, ready to defuse the tension but when he turns the corner his mom is almost doubled over laughing as David stares at the fridge, about eighteen different expressions flicking over his face, too fast for even Patrick to read. 

"What's..." he trails off as he follows David's gaze to the door of the refrigerator and is greeted by a photo he thought he'd burned all copies of. But no. There it is. Front and centre.

"What the f—" he catches himself just in time, but  _ that _ gets David's attention; David finds it endlessly entertaining that Patrick only ever says  _ fuck _ in bed.

"So, um," David starts, his voice carefully neutral. "Were you ever planning on telling me I was marrying a felon?"

"I'm not a  _ felon," _ Patrick mutters sullenly, glaring at the mugshot. "I wasn't even charged with anything— Mom, why is this on the fridge?"

"We found it while we were sorting out some boxes in the garage last week," she says with a wide grin. Patrick waits for the rest of the explanation, namely  _ why the hell it's on display in the kitchen, _ but David interrupts before he can.

"Seriously, though," he says. "I'm having trouble figuring out why Mr Student Body President got  _ arrested. _ What did you  _ do?" _

Patrick scowls. "It's not my fault Oak Ridge were terrible sportsmen."

"Ah. This was a hockey fight?"

"Baseball," Patrick corrects him, and David's eyebrows shoot up. "And it wasn't a fight," he adds. "One of their guys kept beanballing our newest team member."

David presses his lips together very, very tight, cutting a glance across at Patrick's mom who is watching this explanation with unveiled amusement. "Beanballing?" he finally asks in a choked voice. "Um, that sounds—"

His mom snorts loudly as Patrick feels a flush creeping up his neck. "It  _ means _ they kept throwing the ball at Jason's head," he says quickly. "It's a dick move to do once, let alone over and over."

David nods quickly. "So you... got in a fight with this person?"

"Not exactly."

David just waits, eyebrows raised. 

"We, um, broke into their locker room and graffitied it."

David's mouth drops open in shock. "You  _ what?" _

"I'm not proud of it, okay? Especially not... some of the stuff we wrote. And we definitely didn't know they had a silent alarm, until we walked outside and there were two cop cars waiting for us."

"Wow, okay. So all this time I've been working with a hardened criminal." David is no longer trying to contain his laughter. 

Patrick buries his head in his hands. "Is it too much to ask that you'll leave this alone?"

"Yes," David says simply. "Mrs Brewer, can I please have a copy of this picture?"

"Of course you can, David," she laughs, and Patrick groans.

"I hate you both."

"Well, I love you," David tells him, before adding: "Even if I apparently should have done a background check before accepting your investment offer."

Oh, God. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/).


End file.
